<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wayward by serendippety</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925192">Wayward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendippety/pseuds/serendippety'>serendippety</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:35:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendippety/pseuds/serendippety</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that there had always been something special about Theseus – loving, noble and devastatingly good-looking – it almost makes sense that Newt would just orbit into the intoxicating gravity of one Theseus Scamander.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Newt Scamander/Theseus Scamander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Your daily reminder that fiction is in not an open invitation to sexually harass your siblings!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Newt can’t quite tell when he started nursing a crush on his brother, the feelings a constant thorn in his side but also an arrow straight through his heart. He knows that there had always been something special about Theseus – loving, noble and devastatingly good-looking – it almost makes sense that Newt would just orbit into the intoxicating gravity of one Theseus Scamander. But falling in love is quite the nasty piece of work, and Newt doesn’t appreciate the constant feeling of tripping over his feet or the sucker punch in his gut that always leaves him breathless, wanting more. </p><p>Newt is 12, and freshly fallen out of a tree when he experiences the first defining moments of a harbored love – something pure and innocent – for his brother. He’s climbing an old tree in the family orchard, reaching for something at the edge of a branch (a little too high for his liking) – sort of willowy, blue and winged. His fingertips are barely grazing the softness of it when the wind picks up, branches trembling. Jostled, the creature takes flight, upsetting the balance of the branch. And quite suddenly, Newt finds himself careening for the ground with the speed of a bludger. </p><p>The moment in which he hits the ground shakes the Scamander household like an earthquake, because Newt’s right arm makes an impressive, loud crack – like a gunshot, deafening in his ear. The young Scamander takes one look at his arm and doesn’t cry, instead he’s a bit amazed. The odd angle at which his arm had bent is almost astounding. </p><p>“I didn’t know arms could bend like this,” Newt says, as he sits in the kitchen. He prods experimentally at it and is rewarded with a tingling sensation, the ghost of a pain about to rear its ugly head. </p><p>And Theseus, who had been busy writing the local matron for an appointment in thirty, turns to look at him, almost crazy-eyed with delirious worry. “That’s because it’s not <i>supposed</i> to, you dolt.”</p><p>The two brothers are about a third of the way to the matron’s when the pain catches up in a fiery bolt straight to the blade of Newt’s shoulder. In an attempt to quell the pain, Newt uses Theseus’ hand like a stress-ball, squeezing when the pain becomes unbearable. But it makes for a poor distraction, and Newt isn’t able to take his mind off the ache until Theseus pulls out a niffler from his coat pocket – a special someone he had “packed for good measure”.  He keeps Newt enraptured as he pulls Knut after Knut out of the niffler’s pouch like a never-ending trick, much to his own exasperation. The niffler, Theseus tells Newt, has taken the coins in his pocket that were meant for the matron.</p><p>When Madam Maude finishes poking and prodding Newt like a specimen, he’s let off with an arm bent normal, and a cast of the most hideous shade of green. In good humour, Theseus draws a terribly disfigured niffler and enchants it to run along the material of the sling. And Newt – Newt just really loves his brother, toes curling with delight as the inked niffler disappears into the many folds of the cast. </p><p>The second time Newt’s feelings become a little more palpable happens when he’s 15. He’s stuck in Headmaster Dippet’s office with his things packed into a trunk, and his wand in half. </p><p>At first, he’s told his parents are coming. </p><p>He feels bad: he knows everyone’s had high hopes for him and that the extended family had been passing whispers about a pair of Auror brothers in the bloodline. But Newt had also known for a while now that he’s not too keen on that path; four walls, a desk and a typewriter – Newt thinks he’d much rather become one with the grass outside. He notes dully that, although not ideal, this is one way to side step the cavernous expectations that everyone seemed to have of him. </p><p>Newt’s mind is still somewhat shocked blank from the turn of events, and he’s not all quite there as footsteps, clipped and brisk, approach from the hallway outside. </p><p>When the doors to Headmaster Dippet’s office clicks open, it is Theseus and not his parents that greet him. And Newt – caught completely unprepared – thinks his heart must have fallen through a hole in his gut, shooting ten feet underground.  If there’s anyone who looks at Newt like he’s actually <i>brilliant</i>, it would be Theseus. To disappoint his brother, the very thought makes his heart turn to shrivel. </p><p>It’s a harrowing moment when their eyes meet, and Newt feels his stomach churn when he finds Theseus looking positively ill. It makes him feel a lot worse about his own expulsion. </p><p>The conversation that takes place between Theseus and Headmaster Dippet is hushed and kept well outside of earshot from Newt. It’s quick and short, and in ten minutes, Theseus has one hand on Newt’s trunk and the other on his brother’s shoulder. They leave without saying much and make it as far as the school platform without collapsing the iron wall of silence. They sit, waiting for a special express to take them home. </p><p>“Are- Are you alright?” Newt warbles, quietly shrinking into his seat on the wooden bench. Theseus has never been disappointed in him to the point of actually being physically ill, much less disappointed in him at all. But, Newt supposes rather glumly, there’s a first time for everything. The whiplash of Newt’s expulsion must have been so damaging and unthinkable to Theseus, and Newt feels terrible all over again. </p><p>But his brother waves his hand in an apologetic gesture. “Portkey,” he manages, hands rubbing his temples. “Worse than apparating, honestly. That sort of transportation magic shouldn’t be allowed.” He cracks a wry smile at Newt. “What about you? You’re not hurt, are you?” He reaches out a hand to brush Newt’s hair out of his eyes, inspecting Newt from all possible angles to check if there’s even a scratch or bruise on him.</p><p>Somehow, Theseus’ concern makes Newt feel worse. He wants his mother to nag at him, or his father to look at him with disappointment. To warrant that kind of response, Newt takes a swing and opens his mouth to declare, “I think… I think I would like to become a Magizoologist.”</p><p>He regrets his decision almost immediately. Theseus looks at him with a strange sort of bewilderment. It is not disappointment that he gets but an apology. Theseus doesn’t say it but the guilt is on his face; as if it were his fault the burden of success had been passed on down to Newt. </p><p>“Newt,” Theseus says slowly, whether from the portkey nausea or from deliberating his word choices, Newt doesn’t know. Theseus clears his throat. </p><p>“Newt,” Theseus repeats. He reaches out and places his hand over Newt’s hands. They had balled into a tight fist in his lap without him realizing. “It’s alright.”</p><p>Newt wants to say he doesn’t understand, but he does. There is a warmth in Theseus’ gaze that tells him what he needs to know – that it’s alright that he’s expelled, that it’s alright he doesn’t want to be an Auror, that it’s alright to feel upset without trying to turn the situation around. So Newt does the only thing left for him to do; he cries. </p><p>He thinks of the friends he leaves behind – he may not have been popular but he has always been likeable, the creatures he has to say goodbye to, and the classes he will no longer attend. He thinks about his wand, snapped in half, his magic no longer permitted. And he cries into Theseus’ shoulder as his brother puts an arm around him and ruffles the top of his head. </p><p>As they wait for the train, Newt tucks himself where it feels safe. Heart beating heavily but in a strange, staccato rhythm against the heat of Theseus’ skin through the fabric of his robes. Newt doesn’t know why but he wants the time to draw out long and slow, to stay rooted in this particular moment of quiet and solace. A sort of peace before the storm.</p><p>From that point on, Newt’s life plays out like fragmented bits from different stories pieced together by a common thread – namely Theseus. In the future leading up from his expulsion, he finds Theseus pulling strings and landing him a job at the Ministry that overturns his ban on magic. He gets a new wand, and he also gets shipped off to the Eastern Front as the first Muggle war breaks out. The Eastern project falls short on nothing but he gets to meet <i>dragons</i>. But simmering underneath it all, is a constant deluge of fear and anxiety because Theseus hadn’t told him that <i>he</i> would be going to fight at the front lines.   </p><p>Newt is 21 when Theseus comes back a war hero – battered, wounded but alive. And Newt feels the relief so strongly, his legs become so gelatinous that he wobbles to the door before collapsing into one of Theseus’ signature hugs. He is 21 when he thinks he finally understands where all this is going. Pulse in his throat and eyes screwed shut, Newt thinks about how close he had been to never seeing his brother again. </p><p>There is a small celebratory party that comes shortly after, heralding the joyous occasion of Theseus made Head Auror. Theseus’ friends come round and so do their parent’s friends and even more suffocating, half their extended family. Everyone gleams at Theseus, less so at Newt. He doesn’t quite care anymore; the general public always has had their two cents and it had always been tiresome to please. Newt would much rather listen to the sound of potatoes on graters. </p><p>He sticks with Theseus for the bulk of the night, because the more time people spend talking about his brother’s achievements, the less time they would spend grilling Newt. But Theseus, ever perceptive, keeps his arm looped around his brother and steers them away from conversation when it calls for it. There is a kind of professional charm in Theseus that Newt doesn’t quite recognize – a few years apart at war and Theseus comes back transformed but somehow still the same. </p><p>It’s been so long since he’s been this close, pressed up against his brother. Theseus is magnificently warm and has the sturdy built of something like a safehouse; a shelter. In the meandering of his thoughts, Newt thinks about how lovely it would be if Theseus would always stay by his side. He wouldn’t need to wear a coat in winter and the hippogriffs would finally stop plucking the feathers out of the hood of his winter jacket. </p><p>But Newt’s daydream gets shoved rudely into a wall when Theseus’ friend, a Mr. Arnold Fletchinger, says, “Why, I’m surprised you didn’t invite Thea.”</p><p>Before Newt could stop himself, he pipes up, “Who’s Thea?”</p><p>“No one,” Theseus says.</p><p>“Only his ex-girlfriend,” Arnold corrects, all tooth and grin. Theseus punches him lightly in the shoulder. </p><p>“We were hardly a thing, it was just a kiss,” Theseus counters, lamely. “And that was years ago.”</p><p>“First kiss,” Arnold amends, as if that changes everything. </p><p>“A kiss,” Newt echoes, the cogs in his mind jarring to a stop. Inside, his heart does a funny thing, and it doesn’t feel great.  Newt frowns, unsure. He feels… jealous? Upset? Hurt?</p><p>“Let’s not,” Theseus says. </p><p>“When?” Newt asks instead. He looks at Theseus who is staring back at him funny. There is an expression on his face that seems to be telling, but Newt can’t quite pick it out. </p><p>“Seventh year,” Arnold cackles. “You know, they were at it again just before-“</p><p>
  <i>“Arnold!”</i>
</p><p>And Newt lets it go at that, doesn’t chase the tail ends of the conversation that makes him feel a kind of misery inside. It is at this point that realization dawns on him like a bucket of ice water dumped on his head – how miserably infatuated he is with his own brother. He’s unsure when it had happened, but somewhere along the intertwined history of his and Theseus’ relationship, the nodes of his admiration had switched to something deeper – yearning for something laced with acrid desire. </p><p>Newt spends the rest of the event in a sort of haze, disentangled from reality and drifting in and out of a stupor that makes him feel something filthy but also wanting.  He ends up not speaking to Theseus until the party of sorts is over, and they’re both cleaning up the aftermath. </p><p>“About… About the girl you kissed,” Newt begins, masticating the words slowly between his teeth, not quite sure if he’s ready to open this can of worms. But he can’t help it – he really needs to know. Theseus turns to stare at him comically, eyebrows shooting higher into the broadness of his forehead. Dancing worms, Newt thinks and almost laughs. Almost. </p><p>“Curious, are we?” Theseus jokes. And Newt likes to think he sounds a little bashful. </p><p>He meant to say ‘no’. The automatic response is supposed to be ‘no’, and Newt isn’t sure what possesses his mind, body and spirit when he says ‘yes’. The word tumbles out like a rock from his mouth, falling chunky and heavy on the floor between them. Newt clears his throat. “I mean, I am quite curious about... the... the mating habits of animals.”</p><p>It’s supposed to be a jab, an insult of sorts. But Theseus is looking at him in mild wonder, something – <i>something </i>– dancing in the light of his eyes. The look is startling, unsettling and something stirs in Newt’s chest. It makes him fumble and drop all the cutleries in his hands, and Theseus just laughs, full of mirth. </p><p>The older Scamander stoops over to help pick up the utensils off the floor, and the subject of the girl is dropped. Instead Theseus tells him about a famous American breeder coming over to visit the Ministry in a few days, and how he’ll probably get to see a thunderbird – get to see one before Newt does. It’s all incredibly unfair, and Newt can’t really pin what he’s feeling more upset about. </p><p>At night, while he’s lying in bed, Newt thinks it’s somewhat comforting that Theseus only had his first kiss when he’s seventeen. But then he unsettles himself wondering how many more people Theseus has kissed since then, if Theseus has been kissing someone recently.</p><p>Newt scowls at the ceiling and watches as shadows flicker by on the walls. He feels a bit depraved, knowing that he shouldn’t be going down this road. But yet he wants to, oh he wants it so badly. He shifts uncomfortably under quilt, bothered by the almost physical ache squeezing at his heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>nothing can stop me from churning out thesewt fics, nothing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Newt is 22 when he decides to pack up and go. He keeps the commission letter in the breast pocket of his coat, a reminder that he’s doing it for research and not to get away from whatever disaster he’s got himself caught up in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>re: what i said in the previous chapter's beginning notes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Newt is 22 when he decides to pack up and go. He keeps the commission letter in the breast pocket of his coat, a reminder that he’s doing it for research and not to get away from whatever disaster he’s got himself caught up in. Theseus, to say the least, is not very keen. </p><p>Despite everything, and despite half the world having finally gotten off his back about it, Theseus somehow snags onto the idea of Newt joining the Ministry once more. Newt thinks Theseus might have finally lost it after drowning senseless in spades of work, and it repels him further into the hands of a book just waiting to be written. </p><p>If Newt had bothered to ask why though, he might have known that Theseus had just wanted his brother to stay close. He might have detected the slight undercurrents of the words from Theseus’ mouth, almost telltale to whatever is running through his brother’s mind. </p><p>But he doesn’t ask and over time, they become slightly estranged. </p><p>The peacoat Newt wears to the port is a family gift from the night before. His mother had picked out the design. The colour, she said, had been a choice of his brother. The conversations at the dinner table had been amicable, his parents are proud but in a way that’s different than what they’d expect. </p><p>He doesn’t talk much to Theseus when he can help it. He makes sure there’s a gap wide enough for half a person to fit through between them. And Theseus, respectfully, keeps his distance – doesn’t ask what’s wrong or why Newt’s been so cold as of late. When Theseus puts a hand on his shoulder to wish him good luck, Newt feels the jolt travel through his entire person, like he hasn’t learnt anything at all. </p><p>At the port, Theseus is the one to see him off. It always has been Theseus – the hellos and the goodbyes and the<i> what, in Merlin’s beard, do you think you’re doing?</i> Newt wishes Theseus hadn’t come only because his heart is doing an uncomfortable back flip, and he’s weighing in his hands whether or not this is the perfect time to come clean before he runs off to another continent to hide his shame in the sand. </p><p>“Impressive what the Muggles can do, huh,” Theseus says, marveling at the steam ship drifting by the dock. It’s cold and his breath comes out in small puffs of mist. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his own coat, and Newt very reluctantly, thinks about how he, too, would like to put his hands in Theseus’ pockets.  </p><p>It is not the best thirty-minute wait in Newt’s life. He’s jostled close to Theseus by the push and pull of the crowd, and their shoulders knock against each other more times than Newt can count. It makes Newt flush red. </p><p>“Are you sure you’ve packed everything?” Theseus asks, dubiously eyeing Newt’s case when people start to board. He fixes the lapel of Newt’s coat, brushing off dirt and tucks away stray strands of Newt’s hair. </p><p>“Yes,” Newt answers, shrinking away from the touch. </p><p>“How long did you say you’d be gone again?”</p><p>“Three months, give or take.”</p><p>“And you’re certain you have everything you need? Because that’s hardly a fifth the size of the trunk you took to Hogwarts.”</p><p>Newt has a smarmy reply ready at the tip of his tongue but it is at this exact timing that a Muggle blunders into him, and the younger Scamander, having lost his footing, flails a little, stepping into Theseus’ space. Theseus, quick on his feet, steadies Newt with an open palm. And making use of the situation, he carefully inspects Newt’s case as the younger Scamander rights himself. True enough, Theseus finds a very peculiar dial next to the latches of the case. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as suspicion sinks in, “Newt did you-“</p><p>“No,” Newt replies hastily, shaking himself free from Theseus’ steadying hands. </p><p>Theseus takes another good, scrutinizing look at the case, and Newt swings it behind his back, out of sight. “Why is there a dial with the word ‘Muggle’ on your case?” Theseus asks. </p><p>Newt makes a gesture. “Aesthetic flair,” he lies. Behind him, a whistle blows and the ship lets out a loud hiss of steam. Oh, he wants to get away right this instant. </p><p>“You can’t take an enchanted case with you, Newt. You know that right?” </p><p>Newt looks away, and then desperately at the dock, wondering if he dashed for it, if he could make it up and away before Theseus could grab him. He had been so close to getting away with it too. He decides not to risk it, so instead he looks down at his shoes. He has enough shame to look and feel guilty about it, and his brother sighs. </p><p>“How big?” Theseus asks, wary. </p><p>Newt spends maybe a millisecond contemplating on telling the truth, but he decides he’d like to still keep his head on for another day. He shrinks the quotation to a third of what it actually is. “Maybe two or three Quidditch pitches wide.”</p><p>“Whatever for would you need space that big?” Theseus asks, exasperated. But Theseus hasn’t gotten 12 OWLS for nothing, and his brain catches on without Newt’s help. He scrubs desperately at his face when realization hits. Crossing his arms over his chest, Theseus says sternly,” No, absolutely not.”</p><p>“I didn’t say anything-“</p><p>“I know you Newt. Do not make me tail you around on your journey – you absolutely cannot smuggle any creature of any kind across any border.”</p><p>Newt blinks stupidly. The idea of Theseus coming with him actually has quite the appeal, but Newt has to stop himself before he lets his mind get ahead of him. “I promise I’ll get the case certified and registered when I get back,” he pleads instead. He doesn’t make a promise about not bringing back any creatures, but Theseus is sharp and catches on immediately. </p><p>“And where will you put all those creatures while it’s being inspected?” </p><p>“I’ll think of something,” Newt mumbles. Inside, he’s already thinking about how difficult it might be to enchant an entire basement to match the size of his case. </p><p>But Theseus pulls him out of his inner-monologue by giving him a good squeeze on the shoulder. “Only if you promise. Or I might get in trouble too,” Theseus says grimly.</p><p>Newt thanks his lucky stars that Theseus somehow always lets him off the hook; willingly hushes up and lets Newt break laws in desperate times. His heart gives a big wallop of affection – just another thing he loves about his own brother. But Theseus looks at him, eyes searching and he says,” Is there anything else you’re hiding-“</p><p>“No,” Newt interjects a little too sharply. He knows Theseus didn’t mean it that way, but his heart freezes up and his body locks in a way that makes him think he’s been found out. The expression on Theseus’ face falters and Newt feels terrible. He shakes his head. “I must go now. Can’t have them leave without me.”</p><p>Newt tightens his grip on his case – enchanted with an entire menagerie and a space befitting that of a zoo – and turns to go. He gives one last awkward wave before he heads straight for the entrance. He’s maybe ten paces away to salvation when Theseus catches his wrist, tugging him to a stop. </p><p>Newt doesn’t process what’s happening but out of reflex, he involuntarily snatches his hand away as if he’d been burned. Theseus looks at him surprised, but says nothing, his hand hanging in midair where he had grasped Newt. He looks like he had been planning on saying something but decided against it upon Newt’s reaction. He lowers his arm slowly, but doesn’t forget to smile anyway.</p><p>“Stay safe, little brother,” Theseus says finally, voice low and it stirs something in Newt. There’ that look on his face again. The same one from the party, and probably countless more times since then. Newt has spent so much time trying to pick it apart, to understand even a glimpse of what Theseus is trying to convey without words. He hasn’t been very successful, and that doesn’t change now.   </p><p>Theseus takes a step back and falls in line with the rest of the crowd, and nothing is there to physically stop Newt from going up the gangplank anymore. Newt ducks his head, mumbles a farewell before boarding the ship. It isn’t supposed to be painful but Theseus, being Theseus, makes it unbearably so. Newt thinks his heart might be breaking which is funny considering the fact that they’re <i>brothers.</i> </p><p>Newt is 25 when Theseus leaves yet another trail of disaster in Newt’s mind. Theseus, eight years his senior, gentle, loving, and so important to the rest of the world, steps back into Newt’s life through a portkey that takes him to a neighbourhood Newt is camping out in; somewhere along the coastal lines of Italy. </p><p>Newt is looking for something called a <i>froufrap</i>, a tip-off from a random voyager Newt had had the fortune to run into while he traipsing through Germany. Exclusive to the land of Italy, those buggers also like the smell of the sea, the voyager had said, hat low over his eyes. When he smirked, he showed off the only three teeth left in his upper row. Newt had given the man a Sickle and an occamy shell for the information. And also, a pack of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean. Those were, apparently, quite the rare commodity in Germany. </p><p>It hadn’t taken long for Newt to set off in search of this rare creature. He gets a ticket and manages to find a cheap rental cabin by the sea in exchange for ten Sickles and a promise to exterminate the pixie infestation. Newt had only been too delighted to stuff a few pixies into his case when no one had been looking. </p><p>“Newt!” Theseus grins, when he turns up on Newt’s doorstep one very hot evening. There is a twig in his hair and stray leaf litter stuck to his shoulder. Newt feels the familiar trip of his heart like an old rhythm he had missed. He stands there, dumbfounded – staring at the figure of his brother as if he’s just an apparition.</p><p>“Theseus?” Newt says confused. He looks over his brother’s shoulder, half expecting the entire Ministry to be there with him, as if they've finally come for his case. But the streets are empty save the lapping of water by the shore. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>With much time on his hands, Newt has spent many hours mulling over the intricacies of life before deciding he’s not going to worry over his feelings for Theseus. He thinks he’s been doing a good job at it too – and with his hands tied with things to do, he manages to fool himself into believing he’s no longer caught in a train wreck of personal affairs. </p><p>But he finds out how incredibly wrong he can be almost immediately. Because it takes just one second of Theseus standing before him for his resolve to crack. He is almost infuriated with himself when his body betrays him with feelings of delight at the sight of his brother.</p><p> Theseus steps into the abode, and stands two paces by the door; Newt doesn’t invite him in any further than that, trying to parse the situation.</p><p>“Had some business at the Italian Ministry,” Theseus barely explains. It is clear he isn’t keen on talking about it. He smiles warmly at Newt. “Thought I’d just come and say hi since I happened to be in the neighbourhood. Travelled by portkey but didn’t throw up for once.”</p><p>“Oh,” Newt says, baffled but also somewhat affectionate.  </p><p>The moment Theseus opens his mouth next, he doesn’t stop. Theseus takes a keen interest in Newt’s work and progress. He asks about the adventures that could never fit in the pages of parchment letters, or the intricate notes Newt has written. And almost reluctantly, the creatures in Newt’s case (three, Newt tells him, carefully omitting the zero that is supposed to come with it). He is absolutely beaming like an over-polished Galleon that even Theseus’ Head Boy badge could never compare. </p><p>“Do I get to read a draft?” Theseus asks. </p><p>“No,” Newt mumbles, tugging at the fringe over his eyes. “You’ll have to wait for it like the rest of the world.”</p><p>Theseus grins, not bothered the slightest bit. “Alright, then. Patience is virtue, I suppose. But I do expect you to sign my copy when I get one.”</p><p>“Sign it?” Newt blanches. </p><p>“Of course,” Theseus says, proudly. “Hand-signed by the one and only Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.”</p><p>Newt doesn’t bother to tell Theseus that he’s thinking of publishing under “Newt Scamander” – just “Newt” would have been great too but he supposes he should have some pride in carrying his own family name. He doesn’t like it when Theseus says “Newton”; makes him feel something funny in the pit of his stomach. Butterflies, maybe. He fidgets wordlessly. “I’ll send you an owl,” Newt says meekly.</p><p>Theseus arches an eyebrow, amused. “I suppose you would be too famous to come see your own brother in person by then,” he says. </p><p>“You’re the famous one here, Thes. Everyone is clamoring for your attention.”  </p><p>“Everyone except you,” Theseus corrects, like a light joke. But Newt can’t tell if Theseus had been trying to imply something; he didn’t sound accusing but perhaps a little downtrodden. When Newt doesn’t say anything to that, Theseus offers him a subdued smile – softer around the edges, speaking volumes of fondness. “How long has it been since you went home? Everyone misses you,” Theseus says kindly, “Mum and dad are always talking about you. We’re all very proud of you, Newt.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Newt replies without thinking, all too aware of his heart beating furiously with want between the bars of his ribs. He feels Theseus snap all his attention on him, pinning him with concern; Newt can read it through the slight furrow of Theseus’ brow and the frown tugging at his lips. “Yet,” Newt amends, tacking on the word like a very delayed afterthought.  “Don’t be proud of me yet, is what I meant to say.”</p><p> But the concern does not dispel, and Newt really doesn’t want to talk about feelings. So, he fishes for a new topic and grabs whatever his mind closes around first. Which is the last thing he should do because his mind is only singing thoughts of Theseus. And of course, the first thing his mind closes around also happens to be a Theseus-related subject.</p><p>“Tell me about Thea,” Newt blurts, very effectively cutting Theseus off. He shocks his brother, and even more so, himself. </p><p>The minute he says it, he regrets it – Theseus’ expression falls immediately. Newt wants to kick himself but also admits that in the deepest of his heart, he’s known for a while that eventually, he was going to have to bring it up to get over it. And what better timing to talk about it while he’s miles away from home, with absolutely no obligation to return any time soon? </p><p>Whatever false sense of bravery he has takes an immediate backseat when he finds Theseus staring at him critically, looking largely unamused. In fact, he looks frustrated, annoyed and his next words come out with a bite; sharp and testy.  “Merlin’s beard, Newt. I haven’t seen you in two years and the first thing you want to talk about is <i>Thea</i>?”</p><p>Newt flushes, embarrassed, but quite indignant. “I just thought you could’ve told me.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“You <i>know</i> what I’m talking about.” </p><p>“What does it matter now?” Theseus says incredulous. “Did you want me to write to you when it happened? Newt you were <i>nine</i>.”</p><p>And it is true that at nine, Newt probably wouldn’t have thought much about it. But as Newt is as he is now, he really wants to know. </p><p>He also knows he shouldn’t really dig this up; that he should probably backtrack to salvage this conversation. But Newt has always had a special brand of his own hard-headedness, and his stubborn nature refuses to let up the more affronted Theseus gets about the whole thing.  He doesn’t know why Theseus is so defensive about it; so uptight, like it’s something to hide. So, he tells Theseus exactly that.</p><p>“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Newt mumbles, turning to look down at his hands. </p><p>“And I don’t understand why you’re so insistent,” Theseus shoots back. At that, Newt shrinks into himself, wanting nothing more than to escape into the menagerie and to pretend he doesn’t exist. He hears Theseus sigh. “I’m one of the reasons you left, aren’t I?”</p><p>Newt feels his heart jump. He looks up sharply to find Theseus staring back. There’s that same look on his face – the exact one that drives Newt insane because it’s like Theseus wants to tell him something but at the same time, refuses to.  His expression is hinting at something – always something. A vague, nondescript, intangible something. </p><p>“Are you going to marry her?” Newt finds himself asking in response – he hears his voice like a tunnel echo from miles away. </p><p>The notion had been stuck on his mind since the day Arnold had mentioned her name, and as disappointed as Newt is in himself, the very idea makes his stomach lurch. What was it that Arnold had said? They were at it <i>again</i> – an implication that somewhere, something has happened a second time.  It’s the only logical thing he can piece together from the rags of information he has.</p><p>But Theseus stares, perturbed, as if Newt has suddenly grown an extra head. “Excuse me?”</p><p>That frustrates Newt further. In his exasperation, he reaches out and grabs Theseus’ arms. “I don’t understand,” Newt moans desperately, baffled and almost hysterical. Every time Newt thinks he’s a little closer to finding out what everything means – where he stands, where Theseus is going – the currents shift and like a bottle out at sea, the answer drifts further out of reach.  </p><p>But Theseus misunderstands him, and looking thoroughly spent, he says a little harshly, “I don’t intend to marry every girl I kiss you know.” </p><p>It does nothing for Newt except make him feel embarrassed and guilty. He lets go of his brother’s arm and Theseus takes two paces back, standing right before the door. He shoves his hands into his pocket, awkward minutes ticking by. Newt wants a <i>froufrap</i> to appear right now and swallow him whole. </p><p>“I saw her again before I left for the Muggle War,” Theseus admits finally after a pregnant pause of silence. “She’s a half-blood, and is knowledgeable about Muggle technology and state of affairs. More so than any wizard in the ministry, I suspect. I wasn’t seeing her like that – she’s just someone I knew who had information I needed.” </p><p>Newt doesn’t look at him. There is a moth on the wall that is suddenly the most interesting thing Newt has ever seen.</p><p>“I’m only here because I care about you,” Theseus says quietly, sounding defeated. His words are no longer flinty with an edge, “you may not like me very much, Newt, but you really should come home every now and then. Mother misses you dearly.”</p><p>With that, Theseus walks out the door and apparates away, leaving Newt behind with his own thoughts. That didn’t seem hard to say at all, Newt thinks dully, but he feels his face burn with a sort of shame anyway. It’s been very long since they’ve had a proper argument; there seems to be a cavity in his chest where his heart used to be. </p><p>It is in the next two weeks that Newt finds that the <i>froufrap</i> doesn’t exist. He is fairly displeased with himself as he packs to go. The trip had cost him all of eleven Sickles, an occamy shell, his relationship with Theseus and 4 weeks of his life he would never get back. Hopefully, Newt thinks glumly as he binds his notes together, the voyager had at least gotten some teeth implants with the money he got, because that would have been the one good thing to have resulted from the exchange.  </p><p>It is only when Newt is 26, does he fully fall in step with Theseus. He comes home from another trip abroad in the deep of winter, case significantly occupied like a motel on full rent. He doesn’t tell anyone still, and is thankful that Theseus doesn’t either. Eventually though, he’ll have to take it up with the Ministry but that is a conversation for another day and not one to be had over turkey and mashed potatoes. </p><p>Dinner talk is civil. There’s an awful lot of silence to be had between Newt and Theseus. It’s not as if they’re actively avoiding each other – they make small conversations and they pass the peas, but there is almost little to be said. Or at least, as far as Newt is concerned, little to be said in front of their parents. </p><p>“Where are you heading to next, dear?” His mother asks. She slaps on another slice of ham onto Newt’s plate. </p><p>“I’m thinking, Middle East,” Newt says around a mouthful of turkey. “Sudan, I think.”</p><p>“Marvellous,” his mother says, starstruck.  </p><p>“A creature?” his father asks. </p><p>“A powerful one, I’ve heard. Apparently, the locals have seen the destructive power of it in the form of a shadowy wisp. I would like to see it with my own eyes.”</p><p>It says a lot about the passion Newt puts into his work with how much he speaks. His parents are supportive, and his brother, a respectful listener. The dinner table is alight with stories Newt has missed, and it is largely uneventful save his dad choking on a glass of wine over the punchline of Mrs. Scamander’s joke. </p><p>When dinner breaks up, they split to do their fair share of clean up. If anything at all, Newt can say that he at least has had a proper upbringing in manners.  He’s putting the dishes away into the cabinets when he hears his mother from the next room over. </p><p>“Oh Theseus, dear, you’re not staying the week?”</p><p>Newt’s heart sinks – he’d been hoping to catch Theseus at a comfortable time. To mend whatever gaping hole they’ve created since that night in Italy. Newt isn’t exactly confrontational, but Theseus hasn’t been responding to his letters as frequently since. They’re both exceedingly talented at not addressing the elephant in the room, but Newt dislikes how distant Theseus sounds on paper. The feeling Newt has is linear to loneliness, but he suspects he’s also not quite ready for rejection by his brother.</p><p>His thoughts are derailed when his mother shrieks something shrill and blood-curdling from the living room. He stumbles out of the kitchen just to see five occamies tumbling down the stairway to the second floor, clearly having escaped Newt’s case. </p><p>The scream sets off an entire sequence of events. By the end of the encounter, the dinner table is smashed in half and the doors to the veranda are torn off their hinges where one of the occamies had grown to fit the room. His mother, displeased, makes Newt file an appointment with the Ministry to get his case certified before he travels next. </p><p>When bedtime descends on the Scamander household, Newt, without much deliberation and consideration, finds himself at Theseus’ door. The door knob to Theseus’ room is scratched and dull – Newt remembers a time when Theseus had taken a rock from the garden to mar the polished surface of the round metal. “I am,” Theseus had said through gritted teeth,” very much fed up of coming home to half my door knob missing.”</p><p>But it doesn’t work entirely too well, and although reduced in frequency, Newt still remembers Theseus having to constantly pick up niffler after niffler, in a quest to find the knob to his door. After all, Alohomora only works if the door mechanics are in place. Newt had found it amusing, and looking back at it now, he thinks it’s still pretty amusing. </p><p>Theseus is feeding the family owl several pellets from a small box by the window when Newt lets himself in. Most creatures (all hippogriffs in the barn included, he thinks proudly) love Newt best out of all Scamanders. Aster, the family owl, happened to be an exception to that. Newt is pretty sure that it’s because Theseus has never poked and prodded Aster this way and that for experimentation. Newt doesn’t mind though; it is very endearing to him. He loves that his brother is loved by creatures too; his heart does another one of its silly dances.</p><p> When Theseus catches sight of Newt, he inclines his head to the side in question. “Not off to bed yet?” he asks, casual and charming. </p><p>“No,” Newt admits. He carefully inches into the room and seats himself along the edge of his brother’s bed. “Are you leaving again tomorrow?”</p><p>“Heading back to the Ministry first thing in the morning,” Theseus replies. He keeps the box of pellets in a drawer and Aster hoots before taking off. He joins Newt over by the bed and picks at the threading of the wonky fleece jumper he has on. “Itchy,” he comments. </p><p>“But it’s Christmas.” Newt finds himself almost whining.</p><p>“Yes, well, festivities have never really been a deterrent to the wicked, have they?” </p><p>“I’m only here because you asked me to, you know.”</p><p>Theseus laughs brilliantly. “And I asked you to because you never write to mum. She’s worried about you every single day.” </p><p>Newt rolls his eyes. “I write to <i>you</i>, Thes. You could fill her in.”</p><p>“She doesn’t want to hear it from me, you dolt,” Theseus says with affection. His expression is soft unlike their last encounter, and Newt feels his heart flutter. Theseus nudges Newt with his shoulder, playful. “She wants to hear it from you.” </p><p>It’s almost like nothing has happened. In the span of an hour, Newt feels like they’re friends again. It’s maybe a little unsettling that they can gloss over what happened but if Theseus is well and over it, so can Newt. And he leaves it at that while they exchange old words and conversations a little too late into the night.</p><p>It is only when Newt stands to leave, well aware of how late it is and how early Theseus needs to be up, does the momentum shift. Theseus catches his arm in one swift movement. It strikes a memory somewhere in the depths of Newt’s mind, a time when he’s 22 and about to leave on a ship. This time, though, he doesn’t pull away. He turns and is knocked breathless by the intensity of Theseus’ gaze. </p><p>“Newt,” Theseus says, grip firm but gentle. Newt knows if he tugged ever so slightly, Theseus would let him go. “Do you remember that time in Italy?”</p><p> Of course, he does. It had been the only thing on his mind for weeks, and even throughout possibly all of dinner. “Yes,” Newt says mildly instead. </p><p> “There are times when-,” Theseus begins but his voice catches on something. He shakes his head and smiles apologetically instead. “I’m sorry about that day. I didn’t mean to lash out like that.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Newt replies. And he means it sincerely. His heart does a full twist and it hurts unbearably. He loves Theseus so much; he would forgive him at the drop of a hat. It hadn’t even been Theseus’ fault to begin with. “I’m sorry, too.”</p><p>“No let me, just.” Theseus takes a deep breath and slides his grip lower to encompass Newt’s hand in his own. “Thea is a good friend; I especially didn’t want you of all people to think of her as anything more than that, because she’s not.”</p><p>Newt doesn’t think he quite understands what Theseus means. There is just something very cryptic about the way he talks, like Newt needs to sit down and carefully read between the lines. But something tugs at his mind like a budding realisation. He is perplexed, and stands there nonplussed. </p><p>Theseus continues when Newt says nothing. “You know, sometimes, the thoughts in my head are…” he makes a face, “<i>unlawful…</i>”</p><p>Newt laughs dryly at that. He offers a half smile. “Trust me when I say this Thes, but just about all the thoughts in my head are rather unlawful as well.” </p><p>“Newt I’m serious,” Theseus says softly, almost desperate. Maybe it’s the dark of his eyes or the way Theseus is just looking at him – that same look over and over again.  But quite suddenly, Newt finds the wires in his mind, crossing together in a shock of revelation. In the few seconds that it takes Newt to put two and two together, to find a coherent answer, Theseus lets go of his hand. “That was weird, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, that’s-” Newt says, blinking out of his reverie.</p><p>“Weird,” Theseus finishes for him. But Newt isn’t having any of this. He’s waited much too long, walking on the precipice of yes and no. He <i>wants</i> it like a greed he can’t control. </p><p>“I get it,” Newt insists. “<i>Unlawful.</i> I get it.”  </p><p>Theseus doesn’t say anything to that; his gaze is warm but troubled, unsure whether they’re even on the same wavelength. Newt sees the wonderment and trepidation. Theseus has always been the braver of the two, and Newt thinks maybe it’s his turn to shine the light. So, he leans forward a little, one hand clumsily grasping at air and the other gripping Theseus on the shoulder – only to surprise himself when Theseus meets him halfway. </p><p>The kiss is short and chaste. When they pull apart, their faces are inches away from each other. Newt’s lips are tingling funny but that’s not the only thing that feels funny – he thinks his heart is pulled tight like a rubber band at its limit; so full of emotion that he can’t even describe it. And it’s beating so fast and hard, rocketing against his ribs so loud he swears Theseus can hear it.  He stares at Theseus’ mouth as the silence stretches thin, only punctuated by the thumping of his heart.</p><p>“This isn’t okay, you know,” Theseus murmurs finally, bringing up a hand to Newt’s face. He gently brushes a thumb over the light dusting of freckles on Newt’s cheek, and it’s strangely so intimate that Newt finds his face flaming like the red of his hair.   </p><p>To hide his embarrassment, Newt crowds into Theseus’ space, bending sort of awkwardly to rest his forehead on his brother’s shoulder. He’s wanted this for so long, he can’t quite be damned what a few heads might have to say. He tells Theseus as much. “I’ve always been a little selfish and irresponsible anyway,” he replies in way of answer.  </p><p>Newt feels his brother give up resistance bodily; with the way his shoulders sag and the way he lets out a deep breath. And it delights Newt to no end when Theseus wraps his arms around Newt’s back, gently falling backwards and pulling Newt atop him as they both hit the bed. </p><p>“I would like to kiss you again,” Newt mumbles into the fabric of Theseus’ jumper. He burrows his head deeper into the crook of Theseus’ neck and his brother laughs, kindly. </p><p>“Let’s take it slow,” Theseus replies quietly, fingers playing with the strands of hair at the base of Newt’s neck. But he places a kiss to the top of Newt’s head; hesitant but with so much love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sam smith's In the Lonely Hour album is its very own compilation of a scamandercest playlist, and if i were stupid enough, i would write a fic for each track. Thank u for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>